Drabbles
by owncode
Summary: The problems of a cat stuck in a Kahjiit Dovahkiin. Includes catnip and cuddles. Lydia/Dragonborn. Set in Skyrim.
1. Chapter 1

Lydia both hated and loved traveling with the Kahjiit Dovahkiin. There once was a time (that, of course, she would never regale her Jarl with) when they were in the Forsworn Ruins near Alduin's Wall. Somehow her Thane had managed to pick up a lovable and entirely too talkative dog.

It was a wonder how they were able to get along. The Dovahkiin showed remarkable kindness when she fed the poor wretch some of their precious meat and began rubbing his fur. She had, since then, taken to calling him 'Scruffles.'

As they searched the Forsworn Ruins, a Forsworn had been fighting the Kahjiit when his companion suddenly turned from combat with Lydia and stabbed her Thane so hard the Elvish Armor was pierced and the barbed blade ran clean out the other side.

Delphine and Esbern had agreed to spend the night so the Kahjiit could recover. There were only three sleeping mats left behind from the Forsworn, though.

Lydia, embarrassingly enough, was forced to share one with the Dovahkiin. After watching the Kahjiit exhaust herself by healing both her wounds and Scruffles's, Lydia smiled as the Dovahkiin swallowed a potion to tend to both Lydia and rework her Elvish Armor.

Lydia, staying awake out of sheer embarrassment, startled and blushed scarlet when the Dovahkiin, proving herself to be cat-like once more, somehow managed to curl herself completely onto Lydia's torso, using her bosom as a pillow.

Eventually the Housecarl drifted off, unable to attain the deep-sleep-yet-wide-awake state that the cat appeared to. She was startled out of her sleep once more when the Kahjiit's sharp claws began kneading her side gently.

There was something sweet and utterly cute about how kittenish the fierce Dragonslayer looked sleeping.

Lydia managed to bite back an embarrassed yelp when she saw and felt Scruffles curl up on her legs.


	2. Chapter 2

When Lydia met her Thane she was completely confused. She barely had time to say, "Hello, my Thane, I am your Housecarl," before the Kahjiit stuck her nose against Lydia's and inhaled deeply. Lydia exhaled shakily, but the cat did not move. It was only until she inhaled did the Kahjiit wait a heartbeat longer before pulling away.

The cat smelled of dust and snow, but under that was the complete animal musk, somewhere between the feral smell of the Argonians and the smell of a dog.

The cat gave her a feline grin that seemed vaguely fiendish and said merrily in a husked, growling way, "Faka lo'fa lahi A'tu!" She seemed to wait for the Housecarl to return a greeting.

"Hello…?" Lydia guessed weakly, still shaken. The Dragonborn frowned before shrugging and nodded.

"You are this one's protector?" The husked growl was even more prominent when she was speaking the Nordic language. Lydia nodded and corrected politely, "Housecarl. I am sworn to protect your life, even at the cost of mine."

The Kahjiit seemed pleased, "This one will make sure that there will be no price so high."

Later when they had become better acquainted, Lydia had asked the Kahjiit Dovahkiin about her strange greeting.

"You mean the Hon'ge?"

"When you shoved your face into mine," Lydia replied tartly.

"Tsst! Hon'ge is very important to this one's race, do not disrespect it. It is a way to know your enemies and friends and to memorize your friend's scent so you will always know them."

"You can memorize that many smells?"

"This one would recognize her mother's littermates."

"And what was that thing you said to me?" Lydia asked after a pause, considering the new information.

"Faka lo'fa lahi A'tu?" The cat considered her with a flick of golden eyes.

"…Yeah."

"It has no translation, but if I considered the words, I suppose it would mean…. 'How has your spirit been seeing the world?'"

"How was I supposed to respond?" Lydia asked, remembering the disappointed look of the Kahjiit.

"With either bad or good. When this one meets another Kahjiit in this land, you will see. Or he may greet me differently."

Lydia twitched. "With what?"

"This is cold for my race. One may wish for warm sands for friends."

In the end, Lydia was still completely befuddled by the ever-mysterious cat.

**AN: So. Guess what you're not getting unless I get at least one review? Anyway, this is where the Dovahkiin finally talks. ****(She will forever remain unnamed.) ****I liked it when I heard some anime characters referring to themselves in the third person, and decided to add it as a little quirk. **

**Forgot to mention, I own nothing.**


	3. Chapter 3

The pair were desperate to sell some of their stock. They were going to kill the dragon at Lost Tongue Overlook, and the Khajiit insisted on selling their things because dragon bones were valuable and heavy.

Finally exhausted of options, the Dovahkiin gave her assent to visit the Kahjiit caravans. As they stood on the edge of a fire's light, the Dovahkiin stopped her Housecarl. Without any warning, the Khajiit gave the Nordic woman a big hug, rubbing her cheek all over Lydia's throat and shoulder. Lydia giggled at the ticklish feeling of the soft fur against her exposed neck. The Khajiit followed by rubbing her paws all over Lydia's sides and belly. Seemingly self-satisfied, the Khajiit sat down across from the now silent merchant traders, completely at ease.

"Evening, desert walkers and kinsmen," the Dovahkiin purred, "Perhaps this one might engage your services?"

"Come, sitcho, sitcho. Shya for krail. Do you wish to sell your No-Claw?" The male responded. Lydia had to think a minute before she understood they were talking about her.

"Smell my scent marker. That No-Claw is mine," the Khajiit's voice was dangerously sharp, "I have some shiny baubles that are far more interesting."

Lydia felt a tiny thrill at the fact that the Dovahkiin was not so willing to give her up.

**This is short. Much shorter than normal. Perhaps because my muse was not happy with lack of reviews. You have RoxRox to thank because she reviewed. I don't own anything.  
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**Sitcho, sitcho - **sit, sit.

**Shya for krail - **coin for anything.


	4. Chapter 4 & 5

Moon Sugar was a drug. Skooma was a drug. What the Housecarl didn't know was her Thane's apparent love for catnip.

The Housecarl had dried some catnip to make tea for herself after a night of drinking mead and celebrating the killed dragon in Dragonsreach. She had left her Thane's Breezehome to go get water from the bucket they always kept out back when she entered the house to find a hilarious sight.

The awe-inspiring, fearsome Kahjiit Dovahkiin was rubbing her face on the floor where scattered bits of catnip lay. The Housecarl watched her noble Thane grab a piece and rub it on her face, inhaling deeply.

Lydia quietly set down the kettle full of water and began picking up the crunched leaves. She continued quietly until a clawed hand slapped her hand, sending all the catnip fluttering away.

She giggled ferociously when the Dragonborn began chasing the leaves like a common house cat with a moth. Almost incomprehensibly, the Dovahkiin was suddenly invading her personal space, sniffing at her neck and her clothes before rubbing her face all over Lydia's armor, leaving behind tufts of shedding fur.

Then she pulled away, leaving her paws on Lydia's lap but saying with wide eyes, "You realize this one has whiskers and… a… a t-tail?"

Lydia just about died laughing when the Dovahkiin began chasing her tail.

She would make sure to slip some more into the food the next time it was her turn to cook on one of their silly adventures.

Lydia had a small cat as a child. The small child was so afraid it would run off, she kept it indoor most of the time. Occasionally, when it would see something tantalizing outside the window, its teeth would start clacking. As Lydia grew to the hard warrior she was now, the cat died, and was eventually forgot about.

Her memory was jogged when they were raiding a bandit camp one night. They had discovered a dog-fighting ring, it seemed. After the humans were dead and only two dogs remained in cages, Lydia heard a low, terrifying _mrrowlll_ that seemed to be from a demon's jaws. It was quickly answered with a long howl.

Then the Khajiit started chittering at the wolf. Lydia gritted her teeth as one of the smugglers yelled, "Who's there?" Inwardly, however, she smiled.

After only a few months of travelling all across Skyrim, Lydia found her Khajiit to be two things. Neurotically clean and very subtly vocal.

Every time they made camp or paused for a break, the Dragonslayer would run her furred paws over her ears, or would nibble out a speck of dirt from between her pads. She would pull out fur that still clung to her, but was not actually attached. Once day, she asked the Dovahkiin why.

"Khajiit good hunter," She answered quite simply.

"I am a good hunter," Lydia corrected politely, "What does that have to do with being obsessive about grooming?"

"This one must have no strong smell so that prey will not smell. I do not wish to smell like Whiterun. Smell like herbs and sweat. Too strong, prey notice."

Lydia did not pursue further, but she personally held the opinion that the Dovahkiin had ticks.


End file.
